Music Nazi is not a nickname I am particularly proud of. After a drink or two I have a tendency to dominate the Sonos, hijacking anyone who dares compete for sound waves. Everyone in the general vicinity is forcefully subjected to an eclectic mix of my favourite tunes. This July, a spate of gratuitous weekends has left me feeling musically satiated, if a little low on sleep. A passion for all things house/techno/electro has seen me on the hunt for loud sound systems and excellent DJ’s. Perfect holidays for music lovers, in other words.
Two weekends ago, a friend and I went on a last minute trip to Ibiza. A 2 night yoga holiday with 1 night of partying thrown in for good measure turned into a 2 night party holiday with 1 night of yoga thrown in for good measure. The first night was Elrow in its new home, the nightclub Amnesia. A musical and theatrical extravaganza, we expected the extraordinary and were not disappointed; half-naked men in bath tubs, Rastas straddling giant joints and exotically dressed women riding rocking horses, all hanging from the ceiling. You have to see it to believe it. We danced away to Claptone and Riva Starr until early the next morning, only temporarily distracted by a very attractive tall French man, who picked me up on his shoulders like I weighted nothing. The way to any tall girl’s heart.
On Sunday afternoon we hung out at Destino, a more relaxed alternative to all-out Ushüaia. But for anyone with a penchant for deep house, there’s really only one place to be on a Sunday night, and that’s Solomun at Pacha. Beats so loud, you can feel them through your feet, travelling up your legs and almost guaranteed to leave you with arrhythmia. Only temporarily distracted by two, young Belgian boys in their twenties (when do we become cougars?), Ellie and I managed to dance the night away until the roof opened and the sunlight poured in, sending us vampires scampering back to our dark, air-conditioned hotel rooms.
For our last two days, we decamped from our cheep and cheerful hotel in Figueretas to a place which represents so well the other kind of Ibiza – spiritual, health-orientated and remote. Les Terrasses is a charming, laid-back boutique retreat around 20minutes up the coast from Ibiza Town. On arrival, we were told we can could eat wherever and whenever we liked, which immediately comforted our party-lagged corpses. Our yoga session the following evening by the pool was perfect for getting our addled bodies and minds back on track. So if you find yourself in Ibiza and a little party-weary, look up Anna Bielecka for 90mins of physical and mental inspiration. Email: email@example.com
No sooner was I back from Ibiza then it was off to Latitude Festival in Henham Park, Suffolk. Goldfrapp was a spectacular gig, all red hair and red PVC boot-trousers, the likes of which I have never seen before. But Fatboy Slim was the party of the weekend on the Sunday night. The old boy definitely still has it and never have the lyrics to Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat been more apt.
Now it’s time to give myself a long, stern talking to in the mirror, eat some vegetables, get some sleep and knuckle down for my last few remaining weeks in the UK… Did I mention I’m moving to Cape Town?